Hating Cain Read online

  “W-what are you doing here?”

  I shrugged. “Waiting for Nash to finish practice. People keep fucking staring at me so I’m hiding in here,” I said. I couldn’t help but laugh because it seemed ridiculous when I said it out loud. “God, that sounds stupid. I swear I’m not that paranoid.”

  Cain watched me with a hesitant expression, which made my mood sour a bit.

  “What?” I asked defensively.

  “Nothing,” he said. A light blush appeared on his cheeks. “You’re, um, welcome to stay in my stairwell.”

  I groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re acting weird, too. What’s going on with everyone?”

  That question set him on edge. His small frame tensed.

  “You said people are staring at you?” he asked quietly.

  I nodded. “It’s freaking me out.”

  He smiled. “Maybe they’re just checking you out.”

  “Hardly,” I muttered, but I appreciated him trying to soothe me. I nodded at the ball of paper he was fidgeting with. “What’s that?”

  “Oh, uh, nothing,” he said, crumpling it tighter and bouncing his leg a little faster. “Just an assignment I fucked up.”

  “Your parents aren’t gonna kick your ass or anything, are they?” I asked, hoping the answer was no.

  He looked shocked at my suggestion. “Nah.” He scratched the back of his head. “Er, is that what happens to you if you get bad grades?”

  I tried not to wince as I remembered the time my dad raised the back of his hand at me when I’d gotten a D on a paper. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Johnny, that’s not good,” Cain murmured.

  “Seriously,” I said firmly. “I don’t wanna talk about it. Okay?”

  He nodded, but he was still looking at me with that mixed expression of sympathy and something else I couldn’t quite read. Almost hesitant, like he was waiting for something to happen.

  I frowned. “Do you know what’s going on? Like, why people are staring at me?”

  Cain went still. He shook his head. “No.”

  He picked harder at the ball of paper until it practically turned to mush in his hands.

  I couldn’t tell if Cain was lying to me or not. I didn’t want to think that he was. He was a good kid, and besides, what reason would he have to lie in the first place? I was overthinking it because I was paranoid. His nervous tics were probably just anxiety from his botched assignment.

  “Sorry,” Cain said. “I wish I could help more.”

  “Nah. You’re fine. Thanks anyway.” I sighed. “I should get back to Nash, if he’s finally done.”

  Cain went stiff at the mention of Nash’s name, but he nodded. “Okay.”

  I found Nash looking for me outside. He rushed over to me urgently, an almost crazed look in his eyes.

  “Dude, what’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Nash demanded.

  I noticed he wasn’t standing very close to me. Compared to our usual conversation distance, he was at least another foot away, which irritated me further.

  “I was hanging with Cain by the stairs, since you took so fucking long at practice,” I replied, throwing my hands in the air. “And why the hell are you standing so far away, like I’m contagious or something?”

  Nash’s expression darkened. He herded me behind the corner of the building so we weren’t standing out in the open, and I grew increasingly annoyed. What was so wrong that even my best friend couldn’t bear to be seen with me in public?

  “Why were you with Cain?” Nash demanded.

  “I wasn’t with him, he just happened to be there. Why?”

  “Johnny,” Nash muttered. “Have you heard the rumor?”

  My blood ran cold. “What rumor?”

  “Have you?”

  “No, what fucking rumor? What the hell are you talking about?”

  Nash gave me a sympathetic look, like he was about to drop bad news. “Okay. I don’t know how to tell you this, but… Cain started a rumor that you’re gay.”

  I froze.

  “The guy’s crazy, obviously,” Nash said with a breathless laugh. “You’re not, right?”

  The world felt like it was falling apart beneath my feet. I stepped away from him, shaking.

  “Why would he do that?” I asked quietly.

  Nash shrugged but he seemed more concerned with the horror on my face than Cain’s betrayal. “I don’t know, dude.”

  I thought back to the stairwell–how cagey and nervous Cain had been acting. How surprised he’d been when I’d showed up. How he wouldn’t tell me why everyone had been staring at me like I had a fucking target on my back.

  The paper in his hands… Was he trying to spread the rumor even further? Why else would he have hid it from me?

  Cold dread spread like ice in my stomach. I felt like I was going to be sick.

  “Nash, it’s not true,” I said quickly, grabbing my friend’s arms. I noticed the way he flinched back at my touch. Desperately, I asked, “You believe me, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I do,” Nash said, unconvincingly.

  I let go and backed off. My palms prickled from where I’d touched him, as if my skin itself was trying to erase evidence that I’d had my hands on another guy.

  “You don’t, do you?” I demanded.

  “It’s not that, Johnny, really,” Nash began sympathetically. “It’s just… you’re acting so weird about it.”

  “Because it’s not true!” I snapped.

  Nash shrugged. “Okay. If you say so.”

  My temper flared and I couldn’t bite back my next comment. “Would you care if I was?”

  Taken aback, Nash’s eyes widened. He stared at me like I was a potentially dangerous dog. “I mean… I’m not into that sort of thing. You know that.”

  Beneath the layers of anger, I felt hurt. But mostly, I was angry. All of a sudden, my best friend stared at me like I could be his enemy, like our years of friendship would no longer mean anything to him if I confirmed the rumor was true.

  The worst part was that it wasn’t just because of a stupid rumor–it was because of what the rumor implied.

  “Sometimes you’re as shitty as your brother,” I said.

  Nash gritted his teeth. “He’s my stepbrother!”

  “I don’t fucking care. You might as well be related if that’s what you really think.”

  As I pushed past him, Nash said, “Johnny, come on! Don’t be mad. I mean–it’s just a phase, right?”

  I stared at him, my stomach still churning. “I already told you I’m not gay.”

  “Then why do you care so badly?” he demanded.

  “Because I think it’s wrong to hate someone based on that. It doesn’t mean I’m gay.”

  “Oh. Well, then there’s no reason to be so pissed, all right?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is all because of that stupid kid Cain. Let’s just forget about it and go grab burgers, okay?”

  I went still as a horrific thought entered my mind.

  “Nash,” I said. “How many people heard the rumor?”

  He grimaced. “I dunno. Probably a lot. You know how things spread.”

  Fear turned my palms clammy. The idea of the one thing I feared most coming to life turned my knees shaky.

  “I have to go home,” I mumbled.

  I didn’t wait up for Nash. If the rumors had spread that far, then I had much bigger problems to deal with than Nash’s judgment.

  The driver wordlessly dropped me off on the front steps, but instead of going inside, I waited there for what seemed like an eternity. I stared at the door with my jaw clenched and all the muscles in my body rigid. My heart threatened to puncture itself on my ribs.

  The logical part of me said lie. Lie like you’ve never fucking lied before.

  The more hopeful part of me wanted to come clean. Maybe their response wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe if their own son was the one coming out to them and they had to deal with the truth face-to-fa
ce instead of a stranger safely on the other side of a TV screen, their response would be different.

  I exhaled an unsteady breath and entered the house.

  Dad stood at the end of the hall like a looming statue. Mom lurked in the corner with her hands clasped together. Both of them stared in my direction. The aura in the house was cold and still, like someone had died.

  They had obviously been waiting for me.

  Turn around. Run and never come back here.

  But I wasn’t smart enough to follow my own mind’s advice.

  My steps echoed in the hall as I approached my father. I hated the way my own breathing sounded shaky to my ears, but I hated the way Dad’s eyes pierced me even more.

  “Hi,” I said when no one spoke, forcing my voice not to crack with fear.

  Without missing a beat, Dad said, “Is it true, Johnathan?”

  After the way everyone at school stared at me, I shouldn't have been surprised that the rumor had already reached my parents’ ears.

  But the venomous, detached way my father asked the question made me certain that deep down, he already knew the answer.

  The defiant part of me spoke up, perhaps wanting to cling to the part of my life that was about to come crashing to an end. “Is what true?”

  “We heard that you were gay,” Dad said coldly. “Is it true?”

  It was my moment to suck it up and lie, and keep living my life of deceit, or tell the truth and have my entire future shaken up and shattered.

  Suddenly my fear gave way to an unusual calm, like fog settling over me.

  “Yes,” I said. “I’m gay.”

  “Get out.”

  I flinched at his words as they sunk into me like a bullet.

  When I didn’t move, he shouted, “Get out!”

  Mom opened her mouth and raised a hand to try and console him, but nothing of real meaning came out of it. She let Dad scream at me and chase me out of their home like I was a stray dog they picked up off the street they no longer had a use for.

  With only the clothes on my back, my schoolbag and a hand full of cash, I ran out the front door, thinking I’d never come back here.

  Funny how that worked out.

  18

  Cain

  I groaned as a warm tongue lapped at my face, dragging me out of my stupor.

  “Johnny, cut it out…”

  I realized instantly that the ten-pound dog delicately stepping on my pillow and begging me to wake up wasn’t Johnny. Groaning, I got up and realized I’d slept way in when I noticed midday light hitting the blinds.

  “Shit. Sorry, girl,” I mumbled as I rolled out of bed. Poor Roxy had been waiting this whole time for breakfast and to be let outside.

  I had the worst time falling asleep. The constant lurching of my stomach due to nerves and anxiety mixed with the post-kiss horniness that pulsed through my blood were an unpleasant combination.

  My mind wouldn’t stop racing after that kiss. It was all I could think about. Hell, I was still thinking about it like a fucking flustered schoolgirl.

  “Get a grip,” I muttered to myself.

  After feeding Roxy and opening the back door for her, I ate a half-hearted bowl of microwave oatmeal in my boxers. I still felt dazed and disoriented after everything that happened last night.

  There was one thing that for sure wasn’t a dream–Johnny really had kissed me.

  I shuddered at the memory. The phantom sensation of his lips on mine returned, and I ran my tongue over them.

  But as much as I enjoyed the kiss–and fuck, did I enjoy that kiss–it was tainted by the knowledge that Johnny thought of it as a mistake. He’d apologized profusely and then slammed the door in my face immediately after.

  I frowned as I shoved another spoonful of oatmeal in my mouth. Johnny always had to make everything so damn difficult.

  Strangely enough, I didn’t feel as freaked out as I thought I would in this situation. Instead I felt oddly calm. Johnny was the one who kissed me, not the other way around. He’d made that decision. It wasn’t my responsibility. All I did was sit back and enjoy the ride.

  God, would I love to ride that.

  I pushed that obscene thought out of my head. Even though it was midday, it was still too early to be thinking about Johnny and his dick. I already had my fill last night when I’d spent about two intermittent hours jacking off post-kiss.

  Still, I had a pile of work to do. I couldn’t afford to let my work ethic slide just because I now lived next to my childhood crush and the guy who kissed me last night.

  I grabbed a coffee and sat down at my laptop, ready to bang out the words and definitely not think about Johnny Hunter.

  Of course, things went wrong immediately.

  “URGENT-Sorry!”

  The email notification made me frown, and it only deepened when I read the entire message. My cover artist for my newest book release said she had taken on too many projects and wouldn’t be able to complete my commission on time. I stopped reading when the email devolved into profuse apology because I started freaking the fuck out.

  My stomach dropped instantly. With the scale of the art I envisioned there was no way I could find another high-quality artist and receive the file in time for my release. As if I didn’t have enough problems.

  “Fuck. Shit,” I hissed, wanting to bang my head against the keyboard.

  I shot off a bunch of desperate emails to other artists, knowing that even if they did reply to me in a timely manner, it would probably just be to say that they wouldn’t be able to complete the project that fast. I did the best I could, then sank back into my work with a heavy heart.

  With all the distractions clouding my mind, it was three hours later when I finally noticed the house was unusually quiet. Far too quiet.

  I groaned and stretched my limbs. I usually wrote with music in the background, but I’d paused it to focus on editing a few paragraphs and forgot to turn it back on. It was when I wheeled back in my chair that I realized something was wrong.

  The dog bed next to my desk was empty. Not a big deal, I thought. Roxy had plenty of places to take a nap in this huge house.

  But as I checked every one of her usual locations one by one, dread began to grow in my stomach like mold.

  I couldn’t find her.

  “Roxy?” I called.

  No tags jingled, and no little click-clack of nails followed.

  My heart instantly went into overdrive. I ran through the house, calling her name and checking behind every closed door and potential hiding spot. When I strained my ears, I didn’t hear any soft whimpering or crying that indicated she was stuck somewhere.

  “Okay, okay, don’t panic,” I muttered to myself, failing to follow my own advice.

  She didn’t come running when I opened the treat jar on the counter or shook the bag of dog food. Nothing I tried worked. A lump grew in my throat.

  No, this can’t be happening…

  I bolted to the kitchen and sucked in a breath when I realized I’d forgotten to open the door and I’d locked Roxy outside by accident. Running outside, I whipped around looking for her, frantically calling her name and checking the bushes. I knew I must have looked ridiculous but right now I didn’t care. All I wanted was to find my baby girl and have her safe in my arms again.

  Tears stung my eyes as every passing moment failed to bring me closer to Roxy. Worst case scenarios danced in my mind–Roxy being stolen, or hit by a car, or lost somewhere with no way of finding her way home.

  I realized with a sickening thump of my heart that I couldn’t do this alone. I needed someone.

  Ignoring everything that happened to us the previous night, I ran to Johnny’s house.

  I pounded on his door. “Johnny!”

  But he didn’t reply. I stared wide-eyed at the door, expecting him to appear at any moment. He always answered the door. Why wasn’t he doing it now?

  Is he really ignoring me because of our kiss last night?

  I let out a
cry of anger and frustration, kicking the door. “Fine! Fuck you!”

  As hot tears welled in my eyes, I noticed someone’s gaze burning into me. A figure stood at the end of Johnny’s driveway on the sidewalk. A man with a familiar white shepherd dog.

  My stomach clenched.

  Nash.

  I was angry with him, just like I always was, but right now I was too desperate to turn down any kind of help. I ran towards him, shame and embarrassment curling in my blood. Though I half expected him to turn away and keep walking, he didn’t. He stayed still, watching me warily as I approached. I stumbled to a halt, sweaty and crying.

  “Nash,” I said. “Have you seen Roxy?”

  He raised a brow. “Your rat dog?”

  “I’m fucking serious!” I snapped. “I let her out this morning and she didn’t come back!”

  Nash sneered. “Then maybe you should have kept her on a leash,” he said, holding up the leather leash in his hand, “like the rest of us do.”

  He was such an asshole. I wanted to attack him, to fucking throttle him, but I settled for giving him a frustrated shove.

  “Get your hands off me, fag!” Nash barked.

  I froze. The ugly word felt like cold water being thrown over me, bringing me momentarily to my senses. I remembered how cruel this man was, and I wondered why I ever expected him to help me in the first place.

  “I apologize for touching you,” I said in a clipped tone. “I just want to know if you’ve seen my dog. That’s all.” I glanced down at his shepherd, which had its ears pinned back uneasily. I met Nash’s gaze again. “You know I’d help you if your dog went missing.”

  “Sheba would never run off,” Nash insisted. “Maybe now that your rat’s gone, you can get a real dog.”

  That was it. It clicked in my mind that I was wasting my time with Nash. Without another word, I turned and headed back to my place so I could get in my car and drive around to search for Roxy.

  “Wait.”

  I stopped, glancing over my shoulder. “What?”

  Nash shot me an emotionless look. “You should stop talking to Johnny. You’re not good for him.”

  I frowned, feeling tendrils of anger knot in my chest. “Excuse me?”